


Legal

by selecasharp



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Barely Legal, Birthday, Birthday Sex, Birthday Smut, Biting, Bottom Stiles Stilinski, Established Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Established Relationship, First Time, First Time Bottoming, M/M, POV Derek, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rimming, Scent Marking, Scenting, Stiles is Legal, Top Derek Hale, Top Derek Hale/Bottom Stiles Stilinski
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-04
Updated: 2015-10-04
Packaged: 2018-04-24 17:12:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4928185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/selecasharp/pseuds/selecasharp
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's Stiles's birthday, and he's definitely up to something. Derek just isn't quite sure what.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Legal

It’s still early afternoon when Derek gets the text. 

‘ _are you home?_ ’

Strange. He checks to make sure it’s really from Stiles, because Stiles is never this concise. Unless he’s bored and texting covertly in the middle of class.

‘ _Not right now,_ ’ he sends back, not mentioning that he’s at Stiles’s favorite video game store, buying him the new game he’d been moaning about being too expensive. He’d figured he was safe, going now, when Stiles should still be in class. ‘ _Aren’t you in school?’_

 _‘go home_ ,’ is all the answer he gets.

He’s not far, just a few minutes’ drive away. Frowning, he pays for the game and walks out of the store, keeping his pace measured, trying not to worry. If Stiles were hurt or in danger, he wouldn’t be sending him cryptic text messages, would he? It’s far more likely that Stiles is planning to surprise him somehow. They’d agreed to get together later tonight, after Stiles’s usual birthday dinner with his dad and Scott, but this is _Stiles_. Which means he’s almost certainly up to something. Derek still remembers Stiles’s plan to take a midnight canoe trip, supposedly to look at stars, which had ended with the two of them dumped overboard and him having to tow a half-drowned Stiles to shore. It had also ended with their first kiss, though, which apparently had actually been Stiles’s plan all along. Really, it’s probably something like that. He _wants_ to believe it’s something like that. 

But he can’t let himself, not yet. Not until he’s seen Stiles and knows for sure.

‘ _I’m home,_ ’ he sends as he’s unlocking the door. He breathes in deep as he steps inside, immediately picking up Stiles’s scent. He’s here, or was, recently. “Stiles?” he calls out loud. “Where are you?”

His phone buzzes in his hand.

' _come upstairs'_

_‘Why?’_

_‘figure it out_ ’

Wary, Derek climbs the stairs, the claws on one hand out, just in case. Stiles’s scent intensifies with every step, growing stronger, sharper, spicy almost. Aroused, if he had to put a word to it. But that doesn’t exactly reassure him. Stiles usually smells aroused, or at least he does around Derek. “Stiles?” he tries again. “Dammit, Stiles, stop texting me and just answer—”

His damn phone vibrates in reply. ‘ _stop growling, you big worrywolf. i’m in your room_ ’

“I’m not growling,” Derek mutters as he stows his phone and pushes the door to his room open, but he’s fighting a smile. He’s fairly sure, now, that Stiles is just being Stiles and messing with him. Not that he’ll retract the claws just yet. “You’re just—”

He stops.

Stiles is waiting for him, all right.

Naked.

Not just naked, but kneeling on the edge of Derek’s bed, bent over, ass thrust out and legs spread. Derek can’t take his eyes off him: the lines of Stiles’s body, the slope of his thighs, his balls and erection (definitely aroused, then) swinging freely between them. He hasn’t seen any of it before, not like this, not yet. They’ve been taking it slowly, carefully, at Derek’s insistence. Waiting until Stiles is a little older, for one thing. But damned if Derek doesn’t want to throw all that caution aside and reach out for him; he wants to run his hands over all that skin, trace the curve of Stiles’s ass and feel the heat of him under his fingertips. Wants to taste him, lick the tantalizing dimples at the end of his spine. Wants to press his face into the small of Stiles’s back and just breathe him in, all of him, naked skin and sweat and Stiles. But he doesn’t let himself. Not yet.

“Stiles.” He swallows hard, barely able to form coherent thoughts in the face of all that skin, let alone speak. “Why…”

“Think,” Stiles says, his voice muffled by the sheets. “What’s today?”

In a flash, Derek remembers. “Your birthday,” he rasps. “Your eighteenth birthday.”

“Ding ding ding!” Stiles peeks at him between his own legs, grinning. “Now get over here and ravish my fully legal ass.”

Derek’s yanked his shirt off and is in the process of unbuckling his belt when he realizes what he’s doing. “Stiles,” he gets out, forcing his hands to still. They can’t rush this, no matter how much he’s tempted to or how good Stiles looks right now. “Are you… I mean, I—”

“Less talking, more stripping,” Stiles interrupts. “Or I’ll start texting you again, I swear.” Derek tries to say something to that, but Stiles cuts him off. Again. “And because I know what you're about to say: Yes, Derek, I’m sure. You really think I’d skip class to come over here if I wasn’t absolutely, one hundred percent fucking certain? You really think I haven’t thought about this the _entire time_ we’ve been dating?” He lifts his head, glancing back over his shoulder and pinning him with a look so intense that Derek’s mouth goes dry. “Derek,” Stiles says quietly. “I know what I want. I want you.”

“Won’t the school call your dad?” is all Derek can think to say. 

“Not if you have a note excusing you for a doctor’s appointment,” Stiles smirks. “Now, would you please stop thinking so much,” he lowers his head again, “finish getting your clothes off,” he wriggles his hips invitingly, Derek’s eyes following his every movement, “and get over here?” 

“Well, when you put it like that,” Derek mumbles, the last of his resistance crumbling. He wants Stiles, has for months, and if Stiles is both ready and willing, well. Then so is Derek.

Besides. Stiles is _naked_.

He pulls the buckle on his belt free. “Oh yeah,” Stiles crows, obviously watching him, so Derek grabs his jeans and peels them down. His cock, already hard, springs free, and he draws in a breath, Stiles’s scent tickling at his nose and tingling through his skin. It’s even sharper now, and Derek breathes in deep. 

“Are you,” Stiles asks, gulping, “not wearing underwear?”

“I don’t really bother with it,” Derek replies absently, his gaze fixed on Stiles as he steps out of his jeans and kicks them aside.

Stiles lets out a whine, his whole body shivering a little. “Oh my god,” he whimpers, his fingers flexing on the sheets. He’s almost close enough for Derek to touch, now. “Oh fuck, that’s hot. But, uh, isn't it uncomfortable?'

“Underwear is for the weak,” Derek murmurs, stepping even closer and taking another deep breath. He loves Stiles’s scent pretty much all of the time, but he especially loves it like this, stronger than usual, laced with spice and heat, and just for him.

“Did you just make a joke? You did, you just made a joke. Damn, Derek, that’s, that’s even hotter than you going commando all the time, seriously, how did I not realize—”

Derek lays both hands on him, his palms cupping the curves of Stiles’s ass, his fingers pressing lightly into his flesh. Stiles closes his mouth with an audible snap, his breath hitching. Derek’s own heart is beating in his ears, loud enough that he almost doesn’t hear the uptick in Stiles’s heart rate. “Stiles, I,” he starts, stroking his hands down over Stiles’s hips. He isn’t sure what to say; he’s almost dizzy with the feel of Stiles’s skin under his hands, with the heat and heady scent of him so near. So he bends down, leans his face against Stiles’s back. Stiles shudders under him, and Derek kisses him there, pressing his lips into the hollow of his spine.

“I can go slow,” he offers.

“Dude, I know you can, we’ve _been_ going slow,” Stiles groans. “I just — god, I really fucking want this, it’s finally fucking legal even, and I’m so done with waiting to feel you—” He breaks off, flushing scarlet all over, and Derek has to touch him. Now. 

He kneels down, ignoring the cold press of the floor on his knees, and buries his face in the crook of skin between Stiles’s thigh and ass, breathing him in as he curls his hands around Stiles’s hips. Stiles lets out a low moan, panting out Derek’s name as Derek rubs his cheek against Stiles’s thigh and then runs his tongue over the swell, tasting salt and skin, lust and love. Tasting Stiles. It’s better than he’d imagined, and he’s technically just licking the top of his leg.

He wants to taste him for real.

Derek presses a line of sucking kisses up and over, following the curve of Stiles’s ass, until he reaches just below the small of his back, where the skin dimples on either side of his spine. He brings his hands down, grips both of Stiles’s cheeks, and licks him, feathering his tongue over both dimples, before dragging it down lower. Between.

“Fuck,” Stiles pants, “fuck, Derek, I — there’s lube, it’s on the bed—”

“Shh,” Derek manages, the tip of his tongue tracing patterns down the cleft. Damn, Stiles tastes good, almost as good as he smells. Derek closes his eyes, breathing in deep, as he licks over the pucker, feeling every minute tremble, every flex of muscle, against his tongue. He traces the rim, feeling more than hearing Stiles yelp. 

“Shit yeah, that’s good,” Stiles babbles, fisting the sheets so hard he’s nearly pulling them off the mattress. “I never thought that nnnnnng _yes, there_ —” as Derek presses his tongue against him, the tip slipping just inside. Stiles lets out a wordless cry, his hips rocking, and Derek does it again, and again, until Stiles is practically sobbing with tension, his scent so thick that Derek can almost see it. “Oh god,” Stiles chokes out. “Derek, _please_ , this is fucking awesome but I want you, I want you to fuck me—” 

Derek backs off, just a little, and scrapes his cheeks against Stiles’s ass, leaving a thick trail of his own scent behind. Claiming him. “Now?” he rasps, his voice rough.

“Mmmmmyes, now,” Stiles moans. “God, that’s gonna leave a rash — no, don’t stop—” 

But Derek’s already standing, his hands still on Stiles’s ass, gripping both cheeks. Stiles eagerly shoves back, his back arching, seeking him. Derek stares down at him, at the sight of Stiles’s saliva-slicked skin, and has to fight the desire to just ravish him right here and now. Go slow, he reminds himself. Saliva’s fine for him, but for Stiles— 

He clears his throat. “Lube?”

Stiles waves a hand above his head, and Derek reaches out without really looking away from him, groping across the rumpled sheets (and pushing Stiles’s abandoned cell aside) until he finds the bottle. He squeezes out a dollop onto his fingers, slicking them up before touching Stiles with them, teasing them over the tight pucker. Stiles hisses, mumbling, “Cold,” but parting his legs even further, thrusting back against Derek’s hand.

All right, then. Derek slides the tip of one finger inside, watching Stiles, listening. Stiles sucks in a breath, his heart jumping, his scent flaring. “More,” he manages, wriggling his hips and pushing down further, burying Derek’s finger inside to the second knuckle. Derek sets the lube down and strokes his other hand down over Stiles’s hip, gently sliding his finger all the way in and then back out. It glides almost easily, so he adds a second finger, carefully pushing them both inside. “You can — not fingers,” Stiles moans, rocking back against Derek’s hand as he pumps his fingers in and out. “‘M ready, god, Derek, I’ve been ready for _months_ —”

“Keep talking,” Derek growls, his body pulsing with barely-restrained need, “and I’ll do it.” 

He pulls his fingers free and picks up the lube again, then presses three slick fingers inside, keeping the pace slow, letting Stiles adapt. Stiles throws his head back, his back arching, his heart hammering. “ _Hell yes do it_ ,” Stiles gasps. “I know — been practicing, using my own fingers — and while I was waiting for you—”

The thought of that, of Stiles fingering himself on his bed while he was waiting for him, has Derek panting and so turned on that he can barely coordinate himself enough to grab the lube and slick himself up, hissing as he touches his own aching erection. “Condoms,” he starts, but Stiles cuts him off with, “I know, we don’t need them, we talked about it, remember?” He does. That conversation had happened about a month ago over, of all things, a game of Battleship, between the kisses Stiles demanded as tribute for every ship sunk. “So, we’re good, come on come _on_ ,” Stiles begs. “I’m gonna explode if you don’t just freaking fuck me already.”

Derek knows the feeling. But there’s one last point he needs to make. “Tell me,” he pants. “If it’s too much—”

“I will, I will, just do it already!” 

Derek grips Stiles’s hip with one hand, his own erection with the other, and guides it forward until the head is pressed up against Stiles’s entrance. Stiles shivers, his scent sharpening, and digs his elbows into the mattress. Slow, Derek reminds himself, and pushes in. 

Stiles keens, his breath catching mid-cry. Derek digs his fingers into Stiles’s hips and nudges himself in a little farther, his head spinning from the influx of new sensations. The heat of Stiles, close around him. The scent of him, dizzyingly strong now. The feel of him, smooth and hard and tight. It had felt overwhelming before, when they’d make out for hours, their bodies pressed together but their clothes still on, but it’s nothing compared to this. To having him, all of him, for real.

He holds to his promise, though, and keeps it slow, until he’s all the way in, his thighs flush against Stiles’s ass, his cock fully seated. He stays there for a moment, panting, giving himself as well as Stiles a moment to adjust. His hands roam over Stiles’s skin, stroking up his back, skimming down his sides, spreading over his hips, before he carefully bends down low over Stiles’s back and steals one hand underneath him, wrapping his fingers around Stiles’s erection. “Ready?” he murmurs, his lips just barely touching Stiles’s shoulder.

“So so _so_ ready,” Stiles nods frantically. Derek smiles, kisses him between the shoulder blades.

And moves.

He keeps his thrusts shallow at first, just pushing in and out as he mouths at the knobs of spine at the base of Stiles’s neck. One hand he settles on Stiles’s hip, holding him tight; the other he strokes down the shaft of Stiles’s cock, in rhythm with his own hips. “Oh god oh god oh god yes,” Stiles moans, almost howling when Derek thumbs over the slit, spreading the wetness gathered there over the head. Derek’s own body hums with tension, little shocks zinging through him with every thrust, and he growls into Stiles’s skin and nips at his shoulder. Just a little. 

It’s enough to draw blood though. Barely a drop, but still. Stiles jumps, panting hard, and Derek licks over the spot, trying to ignore the little zip of heat at the coppery taste. “Sorry,” he mumbles, faltering a little.

“Don’t be,” Stiles grunts, and shoves back against him, so that Derek’s cock sinks back in all the way to the hilt, making him gasp. “I’m not gonna break, Derek, just — do it again—”

So he does, without fangs this time, biting at Stiles’s shoulders as he picks up the pace. Stiles mewls, clawing at the sheets and babbling out a litany of “yes” and “oh god” and “Derek” that has Derek snapping his hips forward, hard and fast now, breathing Stiles in through his nose and mouth and feeling him in every inch of his body. He jerks Stiles’s cock harder, squeezing at the shaft, rubbing over the head, as he drives into him, growling with every thrust now. His fangs are back, scraping over Stiles’s shoulders and leaving tiny little red lines behind, but he has just enough control to make sure his fingernails stay blunt.

He smells it when Stiles comes, the sharp tang of it flooding him just Stiles arches his back and cries out, his torrent of words suddenly breaking off as his whole body jerks under Derek’s. A rush of heat spills over Derek’s fingers as he presses his mouth to the middle of Stiles’s back, his hand working Stiles’s cock through the aftershocks. “Stiles,” he growls into his skin, biting his shoulder blade and tasting copper. His own body feels tight and hot, wound up and quivering with tension. He’s close too. 

“Oh holy fuck,” Stiles mumbles, sagging forward. “ _Derek_ —” 

It’s the way he says his name that gets him. Stiles’s voice is raw, rough, utterly blissful. Derek’s rhythm breaks as he drives into him over and over, tasting his skin; smelling his scent, sex and heat and release; feeling his body underneath him, warm and pliant. His. 

Derek presses his face against Stiles’s back as he comes, his toes curling against the floor, his cock pumping out stream after stream. He’s utterly lost in Stiles now, immersed in his scent, in his heat, in the sound of his voice as he gasps out Derek’s name over and over. By the time he finally comes down, he’s half-collapsed on top of Stiles, his feet sliding along the floorboards. Slowly, he moves, hissing as his cock slips free, and starts to stand.

“Don’t go,” Stiles mumbles, sort of half-flopping over and reaching up for him with shaking hands.

Derek climbs onto the bed and pulls Stiles into his arms, burying his face into his hair. Stiles wraps his arms around him, nuzzling his face against Derek’s neck. “That was awesome,” he sighs. “I mean, like, ridiculously fucking amazing. Totally worth the wait, not to mention all the planning I had to do.”

“It was,” Derek agrees, brushing his lips over Stiles’s temple.

Stiles hums, sliding his hands down Derek’s back until they’re cupping his ass. “Oh damn, your ass is even better when you’re not wearing tight jeans, though trust me, it is seriously fucking awesome in tight jeans.” He squeezes, and Derek laughs softly into his hair. “Forget presents, dude. You don’t need to get me anything else, naked Derek butt is all I’m gonna need today. Well, that and naked Derek cock, but I totally got that already. Seriously, best birthday _ever_.” 

“I got you something,” Derek says, touching his fingers to the skin on Stiles’s shoulders. He can feel raised lines, left over from his teeth, but Stiles doesn’t seem to be in pain, not if the way he’s now squeezing Derek’s ass and voicing his approval is any indication.

“Really?” Stiles lifts his head, grinning at him, and Derek’s heart skips a beat. God, Stiles is gorgeous when he smiles like that, all bright and open. “What what what?”

“You’ll find out later,” Derek tells him, putting a finger to Stiles’s lips. Stiles mock-glares at him and pretends to bite, and Derek rolls his eyes. “When you were supposed to come over.”

“Whatever, you loved this,” Stiles scoffs. “You loved every second of ravishing my legal ass, admit it.”

Derek leans forward, capturing those lips in a kiss. “I did,” he murmurs, kissing him again. “I do.”

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the [you know they are mates](http://youknowtheyaremates.tumblr.com/) tumblr, with [merakieros](http://merakieros.tumblr.com) making the gif. See [here](http://youknowtheyaremates.tumblr.com/post/130449407245/its-still-early-afternoon-when-derek-gets-the) for the inspiration. :D NSFW!
> 
> Crossposted to [LJ](http://teashopmuses.livejournal.com/94995.html).


End file.
